Chapter 47

When Wu Yuchen heard that the guy at the door was the bar owner, he immediately knew what kind of person he was—definitely tied to the underworld, no doubt. He’d noticed the thug hanging around him when he walked in.

These days’ thugs weren’t like the kind twenty years later who’d argue for hours but never dare throw a punch—they were truly wild, genuinely willing to stab you with a white-hilted knife and pull it out red with blood.

And how could a middle-aged man with some money possibly give up just because a good-looking kid stood in his way, like some teenager would?

Wu Yuchen shook his head. “Sister Ran, this isn’t as simple as you think.”

“Hm?”

Wu Yuchen quickly explained a few things to Li Xiaoran, making her frown and look worried.

“Then what do we do? We can’t let him keep following me!”

Wu Yuchen shook his head. “Sis, you shouldn’t have called me at all. Do you know who you should’ve called?”

“Who?” Li Xiaoran asked curiously.

“Call your dad! He’ll kill that guy at the door!”

“Get lost—I’m not a kid anymore. How can I involve my dad? Would I even have any face left?”

Li Xiaoran slapped Wu Yuchen’s arm, annoyed.

Wu Yuchen sighed inwardly. Back then, people didn’t think like twenty years later—relying on your dad or family was normal, taken for granted. Now, many felt that once you were an adult, you had to stand on your own, and leaning on family was shameful.

Of course, the social climate was completely different; you couldn’t just judge right or wrong.

But Wu Yuchen still believed the best solution for Li Xiaoran right now was to get her father here.

She’d grown up in the Air Force compound, and only officers of deputy regiment rank or higher lived there. Her father was a pilot—he’d lived there for years; he couldn’t possibly be some low-level guy.

Since this man outside ran a bar, he wasn’t some rootless thug. Middle-aged men like him were often more troublesome than teenagers, but they understood how society worked—they knew who to mess with and who not to. If Li Xiaoran’s father showed up, a mature conversation would settle it.

But Wu Yuchen could see from Li Xiaoran’s reaction that she wasn’t even considering his suggestion.

“So what do you plan to do?”

“Fine, let him follow me. I bet he won’t dare do anything!” Li Xiaoran crossed her arms and huffed.

Wu Yuchen sighed. If you don’t even reveal your status, they really will dare to do something to you.

Wu Yuchen stepped forward and gave Li Xiaoran a look.

Wu Yuchen took a step forward and gave Li Xiaoran a meaningful glance.

“Where to?”

“I’ll be your shield!”

“Huh? But you just said it wouldn’t work!”

“I can’t stop him—but someone else can.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Friendly chat. Just don’t interrupt.” Wu Yuchen smiled and turned to walk out.

“Wait!” Li Xiaoran ran over and wrapped both arms tightly around Wu Yuchen’s side, clinging to him affectionately.

“Now it’s good—let’s go!” Li Xiaoran had always been a bit wild, never afraid of trouble. Now she found it amusing and wanted to see how Wu Yuchen would “chat.”

Wu Yuchen glanced at Li Xiaoran. He’d always known her figure was well-endowed, but now, feeling the softness pressing against his arm, he gained a deeper appreciation.

If Jiang Qin was a small lamp, Li Xiaoran was unquestionably the headlight of a car.

The middle-aged man in black at the door was frowning, wondering if the guy who’d just gone in was really Li Xiaoran’s boyfriend—the young kid? He looked decent enough, but what good did that do? A little intimidation would scare him off.

Just as the man’s brow relaxed, the door opened—the same young man stepped out, Li Xiaoran clinging tightly to his arm, confirming his guess.

The man immediately stood up, and his thug companion moved closer, his face turning menacing.

Wu Yuchen stopped two steps away and smiled as he spoke up: “You’re Mr. Lu, right? I heard you’ve been supporting Xiao Ran. Today I came straight from the Army compound to have a chat with you.”

The middle-aged man’s eyes flickered. “You’re military?”

Wu Yuchen didn’t answer directly. “I’m Zhou Wenbing, from the Army compound. You can check. Xiao Ran’s from the Air Force compound. I’m not saying this for any other reason…”

Then Wu Yuchen gave a sly smile and stepped forward until his face was level with the man’s.

“Just reminding you, Mr. Lu—don’t go after what’s not yours.”

“You fucking—” The thug beside him lunged forward to defend his boss, but the man raised his hand to stop him.

The middle-aged man stayed calm, saying nothing, locking eyes with Wu Yuchen. From the other’s smiling gaze, he sensed clear contempt—it made him deeply uneasy.

After a moment, the man nodded. “Zhou Wenbing. I’ll remember that.”

Wu Yuchen smiled, slapped his shoulder, then gently pinched the button on the man’s overcoat collar.

“It’s cold. I see you’re not in great shape—best stay in your bar. Wouldn’t want your place getting wrecked and you not knowing why.”

His tone was mild, but his actions were brazen, showing zero respect for the man. Then he released the button, smirked, and pulled Li Xiaoran out.

“Boss, should we take him out?” the thug asked.

“Follow them.” The man wasn’t scared by empty words—he walked out too.

Outside, they saw Wu Yuchen and Li Xiaoran get into a taxi, and the thug stepped on the gas to tail them.

After a while, the taxi stopped on Fuxing Road. Across the street, the gate’s large wall bore the words “Spare No Effort to Destroy the Invader,” with soldiers standing rigidly at either side—clearly the Air Force compound.

Wu Yuchen walked in, still holding Li Xiaoran, and saluted the guard at the gate.

The middle-aged man’s face darkened—he hadn’t expected them to really be from the Army compound. Outsiders like him couldn’t enter.

He still couldn’t accept it. He pulled a brick-sized brick phone from a black bag, made several calls, and finally reached someone who knew the compound and had been to his bar.

“Do you know a Zhou Wenbing from the Army compound?”

“Yeah. Did you piss him off?”

He thought about it again, still unwilling to let go, then pulled a brick-sized brick phone from a black bag, made several calls, and finally tracked down someone from the compound who had been to their bar; he asked directly:

“He used to be the kid king of the compound—total troublemaker. Later joined the military. Don’t mess with him. His dad’s a Major General.”

The man silently lowered the phone. Any lingering thought of revenge vanished.

He was just a gangster—he feared even the police, let alone the military. And now he’d tangled with someone like this? What if a whole platoon showed up and smashed his bar? He’d have no recourse.

He let out a bitter laugh. No wonder they looked down on him.

“Bro, maybe I should dig deeper—what if he’s lying?” the driver asked.

The man waved him off listlessly. Even if it wasn’t Zhou Wenbing, it could be Wu Wenbing or Ma Wenbing—anyone raised in a military compound was dangerous. They stuck together. Take on one, and you get a whole chain. You might beat the kid but not the old man—and you might end up erased. Not worth it.

And Li Xiaoran—thought she was just some alley girl. You’re from a compound? Why didn’t you say so months ago? What a waste of my feelings!

“Bro, should I go ask around again? Who knows if what he said was real or not?” asked the younger brother in the driver’s seat.

The middle-aged man waved his hand listlessly. Even if it wasn’t Zhou Wenbing, it could be Niu Wenbing or Ma Wenbing—anyone raised in those compound barracks was trouble, tightly bonded. If he picked one, he might drag out a whole chain. He could handle the young ones, but not the old ones; he might end up getting himself erased. Not worth it.

And that Li Xiaoran—he’d thought she was just some ordinary alley girl. You’re from a compound? Why the hell didn’t you say so months ago! What a waste of his feelings!

Back at the Eastern Song and Dance Troupe, the man marched straight to the manager. “Geneva—refund me!”

He’d wasted his money, but he’d spent hundreds of thousands on flower baskets here over the past half-year—he wanted every cent back.

"The dance troupe."

Returning to the Eastern Dance Troupe, the middle-aged man went straight to the manager: "Geneva, refund my money!"

The feelings were wasted, but he would get back every penny he’d spent on flower baskets for the troupe over the past half year!